A Second Helping (of school dinners, darlings, if you remember)

You know, I think that there are things that really stir the memories. I feel sorry for the few children (even in my day) who grew up without television, because one has an immediate link to people of the same age as oneself. Another childhood memory that seems to hit a chord is school dinners, and that even links the generations as we can compare and contrast.

My sister started school in the year I was born (in Weymouth), which was the year that rationing finally came to an end over here. Yes, it took 8 years from winning the war for the government to relinquish that bit of control. Maybe that's why, after so many years of making do on very little, the meals at her school were so dreadful, or so she assures me. Apparently, it got a whole lot better when, 5 years later, she started at the convent school in Lowestoft and was pleasantly surprised by the better food. I, on the other hand, had been dismayed.

However, it was not the quality of the cuisine that upset me. It was communal eating. We ate in the same dining room as the older girls, but earlier. It was 2 large rooms knocked into 1 - I'm trying to remember how many tables, but I suppose 100-150 people could all dine together at tables of 8. The serving area ran along one side of one of the rooms and then there was a smaller room where the puddings were served and we also took our empty plates.

I was, as I've said before, an exceptionally shy child. I was also very small. I wore the smallest uniform in the shop, but it was still taken up and in and still hung on me. I had been dressed up and taken to school twice (my mother got the day wrong) and taken down into a basement classroom - there was no such thing as playschool in those days and, as my sister was still in Weymouth for that term (we have no idea why) I was all on my own. Then I was taken to this huge room, a plate of food was given to me, cutlery put in my hands (what, no laid table? No napkin?) and I was expected to eat. I didn't. I didn't cry, I just sat there.

A few days later, my mother found out that these kind nuns were taking me to a room in the convent itself and giving me milk and chocolate biscuits. Now, I had no problem with that at all, and managed to eat quite nicely, but she decreed that I should eat with everyone else. So I sat there again. After quite a long time, a kind older girl came to help me and I remember her persuading me to eat - "open wide - down the red lane!" and I did. After a few days, I must have got used to it enough to just get on with it. I've no idea who she was or what she thought when she turned up for lunch one day and I wasn't there - was she disappointed or relieved?

Now that I'm reminded, I do remember the Spam, which I didn't mind. The salad wasn't exactly inspiring, but it was fine. I remember diced mixed vegetables, carrots, cabbage and peas. When my sister was little, apparently she asked our mother once if we could have "nice brown cabbage, like we have at school". Later, with more refined taste buds, she described it as "good food spoiled". I also remember gravy served from a jug. It was all right - made with gravy browning of course (we used sherry, meat juices and vegetable cooking water for our gravy), but at least it moved around on the plate.* Wink says that we had fish cakes - yes, of course we did. They were quite peppery and not very fishy. She says that there was a monthly Friday rota, with fishcakes, fish fingers, the nasty cheese and potato pie and the hard yet watery scrambled eggs. I never noticed the rota part of it. I'm sure we didn't have macaroni cheese, which other people have mentioned; I don't remember pasta ever being served and the only rice we had was in pudding and there were various milk puddings; sago, tapioca, semolina. Each bowlful had either a blob of jam or of dark brown sugar.

It was after my boycott of the school meals that chips were introduced to the menu. My timing was a bit off there. I think I used to eat hard-boiled eggs, mostly, and orange peel. My friend Lynn used to take a satsuma every day in season and her mother washed it so that I could eat the peel. I ate apples, core and all. I had a small appetite but I wasn't wasteful.

I haven't even got on to my children's school meals, which were far worse than mine.

*Thinking of Tony Hancock - "I used to think my mother was a bad cook, but at least her gravy moved around on the plate. Yours just lies there and sets." Hattie Jacques, with dignity - "That's the goodness in it!" TH - "That's the half a pound of flour you put in it." From memory, don't quote me. I think the episode was called 'A Quiet Sunday Afternoon at Home'.


Sandy has been kind enough to give me an award. I will have to see if I can import it. I had another a while back, but I couldn't so it was never handed on. I owe someone an apology for that, because it wasn't that it was unappreciated.

Z is not odd, even if behaviour might occasionally indicate as much

I sent an email to friends last night and mentioned that I'd met a friend of theirs who might have thought I was behaving a bit oddly. I had a reply from the husband, which said not-quite-comfortingly that she's used to odd people - what? I wasn't saying that I was odd, just that I'd been behaving a bit unlike myself. Really, people are peculiar.

You see, I was telling him about my visit to Norwich yesterday, and this walk around the churches. I did start by cycling, but it was foggy first thing so I only went to the five most local churches and didn't bike more than about 3 miles. Then we dropped Wink off to visit the baby and parked in the city centre.

One of the first churches went to was the loveliest. A non-conformist chapel, built in the 1760s, it is octagonal in shape, inside and out, and is quite beautiful. It's in Colegate if you ever visit. The children behaved beautifully, returned greetings politely and commenting on what they saw inside the churches. Pugsley was particularly taken with the stained glass, saying "goodbye, windows" as we left each building. We visited 16 churches altogether, including the cathedral, and one of the last was the Quaker meeting house. My friends, to whom I sent the letter, are Quakers and attend there. Having had our forms signed, and leaving Dilly outside with the children (not all the buildings are easy to take a pushchair into), I asked if I might look inside. As you might expect, it was very simple indeed, with a circle of chairs and a table and plain pale walls, undecorated by pictures or anything else. Two women were talking; one was expressing some disappointment. Apparently, she is interested in religion except that she can't stomach the thought of a god, and she'd rather thought that Quakers didn't believe in one. The other woman was explaining that they do believe in a deity.

When the disappointed woman left, the other one chatted to me, and I did hold a proper conversation, but I was a little less than normally fluent. It was the atmosphere of the room. I'm not sensitive to this sort of thing as a rule, but there was a powerful feeling of goodness there. I actually felt quite dizzy. It wasn't a religious feeling, but simply one of strength and peace. I told her how it made me feel - she didn't quite get it any more than my friend did when I tried to explain. I suppose they're used to it.

Anyway, I've briefly emailed back, telling him that I AM NOT ODD.

Huh.

School Dinners

So, how were they for you? I was at school before the days of choice and one was expected to clear one's plate regardless - mind you, one did have a choice as to what went on it; that is, yes or no to each item. I have an abiding memory of a boy called Gerald standing at the end of the line with an empty plate, having refused each item as he went past. It's a snapshot memory, a mental picture, and I don't know what was done about it.

There was always soup, which was served out at the end after you'd got your main course so that you didn't spill the bowlful while your plate was being filled. I never ate this but once - it was made up from a packet and had no nutritional value and I had a small enough appetite without filling it before the main course. The time I did eat it was on a day when you could offer to have bread, cheese and soup and the rest of your dinner money went to charity. Because these were Roman Catholic overseas missionaries and I wasn't RC, I didn't usually opt in to it, but on the occasion I did I found that I had a much nicer meal than usual.

The main courses were not very appealing on the whole. On a Friday, we either had fish or a vegetarian meal. The worst by far was cheese and potato pie, which tasted sour. I can't identify what if anything else went into it, it seems to me that it was lumpily mashed potato beaten up with cheese with some grated cheese sprinkled on top, but that sounds quite edible so something else must have made it so nasty. We were given fish but it has mercifully been banished from my memory. The fish fingers were nice - you can't go far wrong with fish fingers, although a boarder swore that she had once, at a weekend meal, lifted the breadcrumb layer to find a thin streak of blue mould underneath. It's probably the reason for my good health and cast iron digestion now.

On a Friday we sometimes had scrambled egg. This - we assumed it was powdered egg made up - came in huge stainless steel pans and the top was hard curds of egg which became more watery as you got further down. It was served out with a slotted spoon and if you were unfortunate enough to be at the back of the queue you watched the serving lady fish around to scoop out a few curds among a sea of liquid.

We did get meat most days. One of the better options was the meat pie. This was minced meat between two layers of pastry and was quite good. The stew was a different matter. Gristly meat, thickened gravy and no vegetables. I was used to lovely casseroles with tender meat and lots of veg, and a carefully seasoned, unthick gravy at home, and this unpleasant gloop with no texture except the gristle and unexpected blobs of fat was hard to choke down. We had sausages - made by a local butcher whose daughters attended the school; I suppose they were all right although they were obviously cheap with as little meat as the law allowed. However, they wouldn't have contained the mechanically recovered meat which commercially manufactured sausages contained later, so we were luckier than we knew.

There always were vegetables of course, but I don't really remember them. I remember the mashed potato, which could have done with a bit more mashing, and the baked beans, but I expect the greens were overcooked, I don't see how they couldn't have been.

Things changed right around when it came to the puddings. They were universally delicious. Indeed, the least interesting was the jelly and ice cream, the only bought-in item, that we had once in a while. We had steamed puddings with jam, steamed chocolate pudding with chocolate sauce, rice pudding with a dollop of dark brown sugar, fruit crumbles and pies with custard, treacle tart - every one a winner. Since we never had puddings at home, I looked forward to them.

My parents paid for the meals with the school fees. One could only opt out by going home for lunch and I didn't live close enough. It was before the days of packed lunches, but when I got to about 14, I rebelled. I was a very quiet rebel and no one noticed. I started to take in packed lunches and ate them quietly on my own, and was never caught. However, the idea started to catch on among the other girls after a while and lunchboxes started to put in an appearance. I don't remember that it ever became official though.

The older girls helped with the washing up. Although, by then, I didn't eat school dinners any more, I took my turn with the rest. There was a machine for plates and dishes, but we washed the cutlery. I have been extremely fastidious about washing up ever since - I can't bear using water that looks the least bit discoloured and it has to be scalding hot. I suppose it was seeing the murky lukewarm sinkful and finding bits of stuff still stuck between the fork prongs which was, as often as not, cheerily wiped off with the cloth rather than being rewashed.

In fact, I did better with my school dinners than my daughter and elder son at their prep school. I may come back to that.

Z is on Governor Duty

I had a really good time at the high school today. I went in at 11 o'clock for a music lesson and happened to bump into the chairman of governors who was arriving at the same time, so we agreed we'd have lunch together if we both finished at about the same time. Later, she and the headteacher (they were touring the school together) came into the music room, and she told me she was staying at school for lunch, so I said I'd join her.

It was a new Year 9 class, all pretty cheerful and lively, and I ended up supervising a group of 8 trying out the drum kit. One of them is a really good drummer, none of the rest had had a go before. It took a while to persuade a couple of the girls to have a go but they all did after a while. Yes, it was in a practice room; yes it was loud.

This year, the school has moved to 3 lesson days; ie 3 lessons each of 1 hour 40 minutes. Since year 9 previously had one 50 minute lesson a week, the teacher was consulted as to whether she would like to share a lesson with another department (such as drama next door) or have them once a fortnight, and she went for the latter option. I think it's a good idea as they will get more done; it's hard to get around every group within 50 minutes, as well as explain the lesson and round it up at the end.

I must do a bit more work at home - I haven't got the same music program on my computer as they have (I have Garageband) but I should learn a bit more about it and I should get Ro to show me some guitar chords as I don't know any.

This year, another innovation has been that the Lower School (years 9, 10 and 11) are no longer allowed to leave the school premises at lunchtime - this means that they can't spend their lunch money going down to the corner shop to buy crisps and fizzy drinks. The lunch menu has been revamped to make it more appealing - the food was always good, mind you, as Gilly and her team are good cooks. A canopy has been put up outside the canteen so that in good weather people can sit outside and in bad, at least they've somewhere to queue in the dry. There are other plans too for outside seating with picnic tables and benches. Indoors, the tables now have tablecloths and the room looks more attractive and welcoming.

The school used to buy into the county school catering service, but they had become less than satisfied with it. They thought that the portions were too small for growing teenagers and charges were very high if food were needed for a function. They also didn't think there were enough fresh vegetables. It was decided to take it in-house and the bursar (properly titled Financial Manager or something I think) organised it because it was something she felt strongly about. It was reckoned that more and better food could be provided for the same money and the catering team has remained the same.

I had quiche, green salad and Waldorf salad. All very good. They are still working on getting the menu right - they have to have fish on twice a week and yesterday they did a salmon, broccoli and pasta bake, but not many children would try it. They like the vegetarian lasagne and they love the weekly roast dinner.

What I enjoyed most about the day was the cheerful atmosphere. All the staff and pupils I ran into seemed really happy and relaxed. There's a lot of helping out going on in the canteen - as there's such a bigger take-up of meals, teachers and support staff have been offering to help out with the service - the bursar was cheerfully ladling out vegetables today and the deputy head was dishing up puddings. They'll have to get that sorted out - these people need a proper lunch break. I chortled at the Head, brolley raised (not in anger, it was raining) supervising in the playground. I suggested that he should pull rank and get someone else to do it. Later, he suggested I might care for the job. Over my left foot, I replied. But I'm a dab hand in the kitchen. I can see myself dishing out the roasties if I don't watch out.

I was wearing a pair of Weeza's trousers, which are a bit long for me and my ankles are wet and so are my shoes. I really should go and get changed.

Oh, and my friend who doesn't reply to emails came online this morning to tell me he has dished his knee. A ligament or something. He woke in the middle of the night in agony earlier this week - it seems he turned awkwardly in bed. He's on crutches, waiting to see a specialist. Ouch.

Z and the Good Cause

Having said I'd take part in the annual Church bike ride (each county's Churches Trust runs it and proceeds are shared between the church of your choice and the Trust) this Saturday, and Dilly having said she'd join me, we've done nothing about it. I have had a route in mind, but the details had not been decided upon - it's not that it exactly matters except that I didn't want to find too many unexpected hills, as neither I nor my bike excel at hills. Dilly hasn't actually used her bike for the past four years.

Then my sister asked if it would be a good weekend for her to come up and meet Zerlina. Well, the best weekend for all of us this month as it happens. Then it turned out to be not an ideal day for anyone to look after the children.

So our plans have changed. I will whizz out for a couple of hours in the morning to take in the most local churches (most inconveniently, Suffolk churches won't be manned until 10 am, whereas the early-rising Nor folk will be ready for business from 9) and then we'll set off for Norwich, drop Wink off at El's house and then Dilly, I and the children will do a walk round the churches in Norwich - the city centre alone has dozens of them. This is within the rules, a walk is allowed.

The other fly in the ointment is that I am incapable of asking people for money. So I have exactly two sponsors as yet. I have, finally, sent off an email to churchy people, not actually asking for sponsorship but reminding them that the thing is happening. I don't really care much and will shove in a donation anyway - I am a bit iffy about this whole sponsoring thing, especially when you find yourself sponsoring someone's adventure holiday in the name of charidee, which has happened to me in the past.

I'm no good at this sort of thing.

PS. This is NOT a veiled request for money. Please don't even consider the notion.

The sun shines on Z

"Happy Birthday" said the Sage, as I strolled, rather late, into the kitchen this morning. I apologised. Another year older; I'm not the woman he married any longer. "No, no," he assured me, handing me flowers, "You get younger every day, it's me who's getting older." I decided that we're both young and lovely (I didn't mention the failing eyesight.

Still, it's a sunny day. I think I'll go out and frolic for a while.

Win-win, it seems

Dilly came through this evening for a chat and to check on arrangements for the next week or two. She's working part-time for the next school year; her school has just moved to a two-week timetable so she's doing Monday, Wednesday and Friday one week and Tuesday and Thursday the next. Al is planning to spend a lot more time with the children but some juggling is needed as Squiffany has nursery school three half days per week; it's too far to walk and only one car seat can be fitted in his van, so I either need to take her or look after Pugsley while Al does. Nothing difficult to arrange, so long as we all know what's going on.

Dilly had a full timetable today and was quite tired by the end. Since she last worked, Norfolk has gone from a 3-tier system to a 2-tier one and so she was teaching Year 7s for the first time (age 11-12). She taught 2 bottom set groups and she said they were sweet; still of an age to try hard but some of them were really earnest and anxious to do well but found it very hard. The classes were small - a few children were away so she only had 10 in one class and so she is hopeful that she can give them some good individual attention, which should help a lot.

The children were thrilled to see her and made a big fuss of her when she came home. They are also enjoying having their father's attention so much. Al has been able to arrange more cover for the shop - this could all work very well. Dilly's parents and we are helping out too and it should be enough for everyone to enjoy and no one to be overburdened by. Dilly will be working very hard mind you, as the children will want every minute of her attention when she's home. She's also still doing some individual tuition with a couple of children and she doesn't want to give that up as they are both making good progress.

She wanted to know what's happening tomorrow for my birthday. I said that nothing was planned and that I've a meeting on at 5 pm. She says she'll see if Weeza, Phil and Zerlina can come over and she'll do dinner. I said I'll leave my meeting early if necessary to be home by 7 o'clock, as then the children can go to bed when they are tired after that. 7 o'clock is usually their bedtime, but they're always ready for a party.

Z drinks a glass of wine and finds more than she'd expected

Little z has put on 5 ounces in the last 5 days, which is very satisfactory. She slept on me for a couple of hours. The child finds me restful.

Before that, I'd been to the New Members' Coffee Morning and so did a lot of cheery meeting 'n' greeting and Addressed the Assembled Multitude (20 new members plus the committee who already knew what I was like), which would have been embarrassing if I were the sort to be embarrassed. I am not any more, and I never cease to be surprised by that, having been at one time the shyest person I've ever met - or, I should say, shyer than anyone whom I've ever met. If you don't mind making a total tit of yourself, there's a good chance that you'll bluff it out, at least over ten or fifteen minutes.

Afterwards, someone asked me where I did my public speaking; I said nowhere. "But you've been trained." She didn't say it questioningly. I assured her that I hadn't, but actually I felt awfully complimented. The trick is to sound confident and friendly and not to say er and um.

Damn. Another fruit fly is drowning in my glass of wine. Fortunate that I'm not vegetarian, since I can't reach it to fish it out. That reminds me that all the wasps have died in the last few days. Until last Monday they were a real nuisance in the shop; for the next couple of days there were a few dozy ones about - so dozy that I could lift one by a wing from a basket of grapes with impunity - and then there were no more. Cold and wet, I suppose.

By the way, am I the only one to feel embarrassingly voyeuristic if I should happen to catch any of the Paralympic Games? I admire them, genuinely, and I think they embody the spirit of the Games in a way that has become rare in the Olympics over the last few decades, but it still feels as if I'm intruding. I know it shouldn't. Sorry.

All in the family

They were pretty lucky with the weather. It was showery, as it was here, but they managed always to be inside when it was raining. The children were very excited and told us about it all. They also brought me some Cheddar cheese - the capital because it really is Cheddar from Cheddar, rather than cheddar from anywhere else in the world. It is very good. It was matured in the caves. Al said that they were able to see the cheese being made and then went to a cheese tasting - yes, I know, but honestly, they really did and now I rather want to do it too. He said it was interesting how different the cheese tasted when it had been stored in a cave rather than in, er, whatever a cheese is usually matured in. A room. A more complex flavour altogether.

Tomorrow, I have a morning engagement in Norwich, then I'm going to see Weeza and Zerlina. z (little z, that is) is growing well now and sleeping well too. Weeza is putting it all down to the hypnobirthing experience, that she's so calm and well-behaved. She really doesn't cry much and has already, once, slept through the night. Usually she wakes once. To start with, she didn't like her Moses basket but now the nights are cooler and she can be wrapped more snugly in a blanket, she is fine.

Later in the afternoon, I'm coming home again to look after Squiffany and Pugsley as their mother will be out. Dilly will be teaching part-time for the next year and her dad, Al and I will share the babysitting.

Did I mention that it was Phil's birthday last Friday? Dilly, Phil and I all have our birthdays within a few days of each other, which makes for a deal of mutual congratulation.

Mmm, sleep...

I'm going to take Dave's advice and go to sleep this afternoon. Having woken up unnecessarily early at 6.45 and having a sleep deficit of at least 2 hours a night over the past week, I am now very tired.

I have added to this post though, just a few more items for your amusement. I like the oddities of English spelling and pronunciation, myself. If you accept them and look for the reasons, it can be very interesting. I like it that English has always accommodated words from other tongues so willingly. And many spellings have rules, if they were only taught - if you know the rule and learn the occasional exception, it all becomes much more straightforward.

Anyway, I'm going to remove my contact lens, curl up with the Sunday paper and not read it for more than five minutes.

Have a good afternoon, darlings.

Z hasn't quite let go yet

The Sage's head appeared out of the bedroom window as I clambered heavily onto the saddle. He offered to come and help put up the heavy outdoor shelving. I said, insincerely, that I could manage, but when he repeated the offer I accepted. He was at the shop before I was and I looked after him enviously when he passed me in the car. He's older than I am, by the way and it would not be reasonable to expect him to start cycling everywhere.

It was a lovely morning, until about 11 o'clock when the showers started. They were heavy, accompanied by squalls of wind and it was, frankly, annoying and tiring to have to keep checking what was being wetted by the wind that time - yesterday's rain came straight down so that things under cover did not get wet. I brought in the peaches, which should not get wet at all, and put Victoria plums in their place; later I put them in shallow boxes lined with paper to give them a chance to dry out and not rot. I did the same with the local Worcester Pearmain apples, which were picked yesterday and on sale within half an hour of being on the tree.

The Sage brought in spinach, peppers and tomatoes from our garden. I rescued most of the Black Russian tomatoes which are too delicious to let go.

It has not exactly been a high-earning week and I took about £150 less today than I did last Saturday. But that was not unexpected; last weekend was the last of the summer holidays and people were probably enjoying special meals; isn't it good that they include lovely fruit and vegetables in that? I've had to throw away a lot of mushrooms, funnily enough, as people just haven't been buying them as usual. It is an awful waste but there is little point in reducing prices as everyone wants everything to be perfect and when it isn't, you might as well chuck it away. They will sometimes buy soft tomatoes or ripe bananas cheaply, but not otherwise. I gave away some apples, each of which just had a bruised spot, as they were going to be cut up for cooking with red cabbage for Tom's 21st birthday on Monday. Happy birthday, Tom. Mind you, it seems a lot but the actual loss was probably about £10. I didn't make any major mistakes and things have gone pretty well.

Al and family have just arrived home, safe, sound and happy. They are coming through for dinner in a while; I'm cooking roast chicken, sausages, roast potatoes and parsnips, carrots, broccoli and spinach out of the garden. Then there will be raspberries; the final two punnets from the shop - I'd had three left yesterday which were still fine today after a night in the fridge, so I did sell today's two boxes plus one; I also had left half a punnet of strawberries which I brought home. He needs to sell 13 out of 16 to break even (I reduced the price at his suggestion, the margin isn't usually this tight) so 15 1/2 does mean a small profit (before staff and other expenses) so I haven't lost him money there.

Excuse me sounding a bit obsessive here, I will wind down, eventually.

An extra little snippet, which amused me mightily - Ro received a leaflet from Auntie Wink which she wants him to add to a website. It is splashed with what are, unmistakably, red wine stains.

That's my big sister...

Z is reluctant

The Sage gave me a lift in yesterday because rain was forecast and after 11 hours on my feet, I didn't want the prospect of staggering home on the bike in the rain. In fact, it had cleared up by 7 pm, but I was still glad to come back in the car.

Today, rain is forecast again. But I've left it as late as I can and the Sage is still asleep. Sadly, I'm too polite to wake him.

*Sigh*

On my bike, then. See you later.

Z copies and pastes

The shop will be open today from 8 am to 7 pm so I have no great expectation of feeling like doing anything when I get home. So I've looked this rhyme out to entertain you for today. Enjoy, darlings.

"The Chaos"

Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Pray console your loving poet,
Make my coat look new, dear sew it.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it's written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation's OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Feoffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation -- think of Psyche!
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won't it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It's a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough --
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!!!

by Gerald Nolst Trenite' a.k.a. "Charivarius" 1870 - 1946 - a Dutch observer of English.

Another, in similar vein -

I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you
On hiccough, thorough, slough, and through.
Well don't! And now you wish, perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps.
Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard but sounds like bird.
And dead: it's said like bed, not bead,
For goodness sake don't call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt).
A moth is not a moth as in mother
Nor both as in bother, nor broth as in brother,
And here is not a match for there,
Nor dear and fear, for bear and pear.
And then there's dose and rose and lose--
Just look them up--and goose and choose
And cork and work and card and ward
And font and front and word and sword
And do and go, then thwart and cart,
Come, come! I've hardly made a start.
A dreadful Language? Why man alive!
I learned to talk it when I was five.
And yet to write it, the more I tried,
I hadn't learned it at fifty-five.

I found this on the English Teachers Network (sic), ETNI, who I think should brush up on the correct use of the apostrophe before they call themselves English teachers.

This site gives more in similar vein.

Z's diet is completely smashed

Ooh, there's a lovely new stall on the market. It will be my downfall. Thank goodness it is only there once a week. It's mainly a cheese stall, but also has olives, pâtés, salami and bread - it's a little pocket deli, in short. The bread does not contain yeast - sourdough starter or similar I suppose; the making process takes three days. There are cheeses I've never heard of, including local ones. I bought 2 loaves of bread, a Basque blue cheese, a Norfolk smoked cheddar-type cheese (actually smoked, not injected with smoke flavour), various olives stuffed with nuts, sun-dried tomatoes or feta cheese and a slice of chicken liver pâté and spent £13-something, which was less than my excited brain had expected. There is a very good local deli in fact and I go in there once in a while but it's too tempting - everything is so delicious that I spend too much and then eat too much.

Cheese is my downfall.

I ate bits of everything for lunch and, in the end, had to resort to eating jelly babies to take the taste of cheese from my taste-buds. After a while, I ate some dry bread to remove the taste of jelly babies (which I bought for the churchwardens' meeting tonight). Then I found myself eating more cheese.

For supper, as I'm going out in a short time, I'm having more of the same. Not the jelly babies, the rest. I will also take Maltesers and grapes to the meeting, so as to satisfy all tastes.

Ro and the Sage will have fish. Wild sea bass. I will have my share another day. Well, tomorrow. But tomorrow is another day, after all.

Z Apprehends A Shoplifter and tells her mummy

It was a quiet day at the shop. I popped across the road to the bakers during the morning to get my lunch and met friends on the opposite pavement. They asked if I had time for coffee - I went back to check with Tim and said I'd be 20 minutes. I returned, eventually, and apologised for being half an hour or so. "Hm, and the rest" he said, checking the clock.

Wednesday afternoon is traditionally early closing day and, although not many shops do still close, it's still the least busy afternoon of the week. I sat and read the paper in between serving customers. Nina came in. She is elderly and depressed, and a ten minute conversation dampened my spirits considerably.

Later, I caught a movement out of the window (there is shelving outside which means I can see out better than others see in, but the view is partly obscured). A little girl had been by the outside display and was running across the road to a car. She handed two objects in through the open window; two hands accepted them and then reached out again to help her in the window. I stalked out and across the road, looking rather more carefully than the child had. "Excuse me?" I demanded. "Did that little girl take some apples?" The apples were thrust into my hands by a child whose face went from a smile to shock in an instant. I told her that she should not encourage her little sister to behave so badly and said other suitably telling-off things. I marched back over the road and told a customer who had just entered the shop about it. We grumbled to each other and then I went back to the car. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to tell your mother or father about this when they get back to the car" I said. "It wasn't me, I didn't tell her to do it, I didn't know" said the child, who was about 10. "You were smiling when she came back and you took the apples," I accused.

I did, too. I told her sympathetically and made it clear that it wasn't the apples, but that I felt she should know. I'm afraid those little girls will have got a rocket. Not only was their mum horrified (how embarrassing, I was so sorry for her) at what had happened, but she had left a child old enough to be responsible for her little brother and sister for a very short time while she popped into a shop, and the 7 year old had got out of the car and crossed the road, when she had told them to stay in the car.

You know, if that older kid had been brave enough and honest enough to say she was sorry, but she had dared the little one and she would take responsibility, I'd have given her a gentle ticking-off and probably even given them the apples (local Worcesters, probably worth about 24p), it was trying to dump the blame on the child that annoyed me.

Anyway. The takings were £100 down on yesterday, but that's how Wednesdays are. Tomorrow is market day (yes, a large fruit & veg stall) so the town will be a lot more lively.

Oh, and this week, after a gap of some 30 years, Boots the Chemist has returned to Yagnub. MacDaniells had been our chemist for years and years, until Mr Mac retired and sold out; the people who bought it already owned a small chain of fairly local chemists, but it's never been so good. Now they have sold out too. Boots used to have a shop here, which they rather strangely sited next to Mr Mac's; evidently trying to squeeze him out of business, but it backfired. Locals didn't care for this behaviour and pretty well boycotted the shop. All at least 30 years ago, now. Apart from the Co-op, now outside the town centre, and the newsagent, this is the first and only national chain store in Yagnub.

On the I Cs without a paddle (this is meaningless and irrelevant)

Coming back to the phonetic alphabet, here are a few versions, which can be used to help or not, according to circumstances. They are all, I think, far better than the accepted versions.

And Happy Birthday Dilly!

Gordie came up with this one:

A for Horses
B for Chicken
C for Yourself / C for Miles
D for Kate / D for estation
E for Brick at ‘im
F for Vescent
G for Indians / G for Inspector
H for Consent /Concern / Drinking
I for Big ‘Un / The Engine
J for Cakes
K for Sutherland
L for Betty Spaghetti / Leather
M for Sis / for Mation
N for Lopes
O for Goodness’ Sake / the Wings of a Dove
P for Drugs Test
Q for the Toilet
R for Minute/ R for Ransome
S for Rantzen
T for Two / Gums / On Edge
U for Coffee /U for Me
V for Espana
W for Money
X for Breakfast
Y for Girlfriend

and, how to finish this off?

Zee for Cider
Zed for Zodiac Mark I
Zed for the Greek god of the wind

Ephelba suggested a Misleading Alphabet. A few gaps here, can you help? - and scope for improvement with others.

A - Aestivate
B -
C - Czar
D - Djinn
E - Effing
F - Floccinaucinihilipilification
G - Gnome
H - Honour
I -
J -
K - Knight or Kew
L - Llanelli or Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
M - Mnemonic
N - Neurosis
O - Other
P - Pneumatic
Q - Qatar
R - Rigoletto
S - Scythe
T - Tzatziki
U -
V - Verisimilitude
W - Wriggling or writhe
X - Xylem or Xavier
Y - Ypres (pronounced correctly or as 'Wipers', each works)
Z - Bed

Caitlin suggested the Drinking Woman's Alphabet (men are welcome to join us). I gave up on a few and looked up cocktails; if you have better ideas please let me know.

A - Amaretto
B - Baileys
C - Cointreau
D - Drambuie
E - Eiswein
F - Frascati
G - Gin
H - Hock
I - Imbibe
J - Jack Daniels
K - Kirsch
L - Limoncello
M - Margarita
N - Newcastle Brown ale
O - Ouzo
P - Port
Q - Quagmyre (nah, don't fancy it)
R - Rum
S - Schnapps
T - Tequila
U - Urbinos (this sounds quite interesting; white wine, cognac and raspberry liqueur)
V - Vodka
W - Whisky
X - Xaviera (no, I've never tried it, I shirk cocktails that have whipped cream in)
Y - Yucka (now, this sounds delicious. Vodka, lemon, lime and sugar)
Z - Zinfandel

And I suggest one to confuse and mildly embarrass the charming young gentleman at the other end of the telephone:

A - Adore
B - Bottom
C - Charming
D - Delightful
E - Entrancing
F - Fondle
G - Gorgeous
H - Handle
I - Invite
J - Jerk
K - Kiss
L - Love
M - Messing
N - Naughty
O - Organ
P - Pants
Q - Quiescent
R - Respectable
S - Snot
T - Teasing
U - Urge
V - Vivacity
W - Writhe (too like Ephelba's idea, but such a nice word)
X -Xenophilia
Y -Yum
Z - Zestfulness

Another list, this time from Dandelion. I could not get away with using this, I'd sound quite off-colour. You have to be young enough (but not too young) or really quite old and I'm still in those in-between years.

A - Arousal
B - Breasts
C - Clitoris
D - Dildo
E - Erection
F - Foreplay
G - G-spot, Groping
H - Hanky Panky
I - Intercourse
J - Juicy
K - Kissing
L - Labia
M - Making Love
N - Nipples
O - Orgasm
P - Penetration
Q - Quim
R - Roleplaying
S - Sexy
T - Tampons, Titillate, Thrusting
U - Uterus
V - Vagina
W - Womanhood
X - X-static
Y - Yoiks, YesYesYes!
Z - Zip

Z is glad she didn't ruin her Sunday finding out about this earlier

Oh blimey. Home for a few hours as Tim is in the shop until 4.30 (it doesn't need two people in the afternoon), I'm printing out the stuff I need for the meeting tomorrow. The membership secretary emailed me (she's just learned to attach documents) the revised membership list, asking me to print it out for the committee as she can't make it include emails, which are newly added this year. I set it all up and then, fortunately, looked closer before printing. Many of the addresses have gone all random, with villages in the wrong place (against the address that is, they haven't physically moved from one part of Norfolk to another).

I realise what she's done, after a few bewildered minutes, for it's not the new members (some of whom are on the list and some not) whose addresses have been changed. She doesn't know how to put them in alphabetical order, so she's done it physically, one by one, but not changed each and every cell. She'd have been in trouble if she had tried to put them in alphabetical order in fact, as she's been a bit random as to where she started typing the surname, with sometimes a space in front and sometimes not, so they'd have been sorted by that first.

Now I'm having to go through all 381 of them to check and amend. It's unbelievably tricky and quite a strain on the eyes, as I go from last year's correct list on the screen to this one's totally screwed one. I can't be annoyed, when I think of all the hours the dear woman must have spent patiently changing the list when it would have been so easy to do it the right way (apart from all those misplaced spaces). She is in her late 70s, still plays tennis, golf and bridge and, like many of us, muddles through pretty effectively with her computer - most of the time.

Lazy Sunday

Oh, I am not a friend to myself. If I were, I'd have done a bit of work today. As it is, I took the day off and therefore will have to do whole lots tomorrow evening when I'm tired. Stoopid, terribly terribly stoopid, but on the other hand I've taken a day off, so will say 'yay!' and, well, maybe I'll do a bit tonight. I have, at least, printed out the address labels from the mailing list and phoned in the orders for tomorrow's deliveries.

I was in bed before 10 o'clock last night and went straight to sleep. I was awake again at 3.30. I mused, in the next wakeful hour or so, that the old saying goes that an hour's sleep before midnight is worth two after. The saying doesn't say that it replaces that two hours. I was just too damn tired to get up though, and finally slept, if fitfully, until 8; and then had to belt about like nobody's business. Still, I took the papers out onto the lawn and slept this afternoon, which was rather enjoyable. It was very warm but the sun was mostly hidden behind hazy clouds so I don't seem to have been sunburnt...

Nor have I watered the greenhouses. I seem to be just opting out, and have done for a few weeks. No explanation, no excuse, just don't seem to care that much. There is a splendid crop of blackberries growing on the brambles at the end of the drive, which is quite enough reason not to cut them back for another few weeks. And to think that only a year ago I was working so hard with my pruning saw. Maybe not an exact year, really, we're not checking back are we? that's the trouble with a blog, we can check these things and it doesn't give me scope for broad and sweeping statements that may be not quite accurate.

Roast chicken for dinner tonight. And afterwards I had a chat with my girlie. The baby is fine and slept from 1 am until 5.30 and then again until a reasonable time and has been feeding well all day, so they feel they don't have to set an alarm to get up and wake her at night, which will make life easier. They're very lucky, I never had a baby sleep more than a couple of hours at a time, day or night, for the first several weeks.

Z mustn't sit down for long or she will fall asleep

I would like to put my feet up and have a little sleep. I didn't, much, last night for some reason - probably because I knew I was getting up early. I went up to wake the Sage just before 7 o'clock, but he didn't feel like rounding up a cattle at that time, so I went and read yesterday's paper for a while before going to the shop at 8.

Alice did well in her GCSEs, with A*s, As and Bs. So did her twin sister. I asked about the other twins, she said she knew one was pleased but hadn't seen the other (honestly, people can be a bit funny, if it were me I'd tell a friend how my sister had done - she must take after her father).

The day went fine, not wildly busy but we got a lot sold and I was glad, at 4 o'clock, to start to pack up after 8 hours on my feet - no coffee or lunch breaks, I eat and drink in between customers. Then, of course, a steady stream of people came in over the next 20 minutes, their requirements ranging from 1 banana to nearly £10-worth of fruit and veg. The Sage kindly came in to help me put away the shelving and after he'd gone I cashed up the takings. Usually we're open from 8.30 to 5.30 (though I get in early as I'm slower than Al at setting up) but we stay open until 7 of Fridays, closing early on Saturday to compensate.

My calves are tingling with achiness. I cycled home very slowly and plodded hobblingly into the house and drank a pint of water. I added ice cubes. I am a girl who knows how to have a good time. There had been a stall under the Buttercross (an ancient market place, it still has a market on Thursdays but the dome of the Buttercross itself houses a charity stall on Saturdays). I bought 4 children' books (the number refers to the volumes not the young people), two jigsaws and a fruit cake, for £4.90 and told them to keep the change. The lady's pleasure was way out of proportion to my gesture.

There were 3 punnets of raspberries left at the end of the day, so I have brought them home. Probably, we'll eat one today, one tomorrow and freeze one. I shall give some to the Sage with a piece of cake. He will be happy. He likes cake. I might eat some too. Or not. I'll have raspberries.

I will fall asleep if i sit here. I think I shall go and very slowly start to prepare dinner. Maybe a nice cup of tea while I'm doing so. After all, it's too early for wine.

10 again

Are comments appearing in tiny print for everyone else, or is it just me? Not just on this blog, others too.

We're thinking that we'll bring Pinkie part of the way on the footpath. I said we had better go out at 6 or 6.30 - oh all right, but no later than 7 o'clock. The Sage still looked a bit glum. "I want to be in the shop working by 8" I explained. He suggested we could do it on Sunday, or another day. "It still has to be that early though, before people are driving past." Anyway, I'm setting the alarm for 6.

Tonight marked Progress in Z's diet, which has been ongoing for nearly 10 months now. I shall go back a bit and explain the whole thing.

Some 8 or 10 years before she died, when we were both staying with my sister for a week, we all went shopping and my mother bought a skirt. I liked it very much, but she saw it first and I encouraged her to buy it - but she never once wore it. I don't know why not; it was evidently one of those things one buys because it' s a bargain but turns out to be a false one. In those days, I could easily have fitted into it.

After she died, my sister and I sorted out her clothes and gave most of them to the charity shop, though we kept a few coats which had hardly been worn and other things - we were always cheerfully swapping clothes, so it didn't feel weird. Anyway, I kept this skirt, even though I couldn't wear it. I thought that one day I might slim down enough - pathetic, isn't it? That was more than 5 years ago.

So, a few weeks ago I tried it on and I could not only do the zip up but fasten the waistband too. And tonight I wore it. I'm vastly pleased, to wear a size 10 (that's a 6 to you Transatlanticians) again.

I went to my last concert of the summer at Snape tonight and I met 5 friends, unexpectedly. That is, a couple and another couple with her brother. Very nice.

I've come home, drunk a cup of tea and a glass of whisky (no wine tonight, but can't let the blood override the alcohol in the veins, isn't healthy) and now I'm off to bed. Goodnight, darlings.

Hell Bent for Leather

Move 'em on, head 'em up,
Head 'em up, move 'em out,
Move 'em on, head 'em out Rawhide!

Big Pinkie has gone visiting. She has called on some friends in a field half a mile away. She crossed fields, footpaths and the river, but the Sage and I are going to bring her back by road.

This will be interesting. Quite fun, I hope, as long as she doesn't mind cars. If she does, we'll just have to see what happens.

Update - not at this time of day, too much traffic. It'll have to be done at larkfart in the morning instead. Hm. A pleasant stroll before I set off for a long day's work in the shop. We'd planned to put a rope round her neck but she didn't care for it, so it would have to be done simply by calling her - she follows nicely.

Z dithers

A friend has just come online. I emailed him last week to ask how his twin 16-year-old daughters did in their GCSEs. He hasn't replied. Now, he isn't big on emailing. On the other hand, he's online and he can see I'm online (and this has happened 3 times this week). Doesn't look as if they did as well as hoped.

So, is it tactful or uncaring of me not to say 'hello'? I'm still going with tactful; hell, I emailed and it's sort of up to him. But blokes are a bit retarded that way (not you of course, dear heart, I'm talking about other men) and he might be waiting for me to say something.

Sheesh. I'll see the kids sooner or later and ask them.

Shellfish as ever

Oh, I forget what I was going to say. Hang on, I'll go and make some coffee, that might remind me.

Nope, it's gone. Gosh, I wish I had some sweets. There's chocolate, but Reformed Characters such as what I am don't eat chocolate without better reason than simply wanting it. Black coffee isn't quite cutting the mustard. Never mind. Dinner was nice though.

Did you know that kippers cost more than scallops nowadays? I asked Matt (I'm quite sure his name is not Gary, Badgerdaddy, he has it painted on his van - Matt, that is) for three kippers, and mused that in my young day one would have eaten a pair of kippers. I wouldn't, as I was a child, but my parents would, sometimes for breakfast. Kippers were not a dinnertime (that is, evening dinner) meal. One might eat kippers for tea if one ate tea, but we just drank tea. I'm quite glad that we now eat our evening meal at any time, call it whatever we fancy and eat what we like.

Anyhoo, he weighed the kippers and apologised that they cost 9 quid. He suggested that the kippers of my youth were local kippers for local people, whereas these were smoked from Norwegian herrings. I asked for a dozen scallops. They cost £8 (and formed the main interest of dinner. Or should I say supper? Tea, if you prefer). He rounded the bill down to £15 as he is nice that way.

I left the fish in Al's shop fridge and headed on over to Weeza's place. I took her some cherries, greengages, Victoria plums, peaches, raspberries, cucumber, bread (which was coated with toasted sunflower seeds), ham, salt beef and chocolate. The chocolate was Fairtrade milk chocolate and orange, Green and Black's butterscotch and chocolate and Fairtrade praline chocolate. The last was 100g bar and she is allowed to share it with Phil at the weekend. The rest was littler bars for her to eat all by herself.

It reminded me of my father, when I was little. They were friends with an entertaining but eccentric couple who lived in a house done up with castellations and turrets - the previous generation who built it were a bit unusual too. The wife, Dorothy, developed cancer.. The husband was very interested in numbers and their meaning and believed you could use formulae to predict the course of the future. He would come round, in a state of despair.

"My darling Dorrie will die on the 27th September!" he declared unhappily. He accepted a couple of glasses of sherry and some nice cheesy biscuits and went home again. "No she bloody well won't" declared my father, with equal certainty, and got on the phone to the wine merchant. The next day, he'd go round to the Towers with a crate of quarter-bottles of champagne. He put them in the fridge and instructed Dorothy to have one of them every day at 11 am.

She went on for longer than expected. It was all down to the champagne and the love - of my parents and her husband and family.

For now, I have delighted you long enough. And I haven't even mentioned the baby. She deserves posts to herself, you see.

Z sees her time Slipping Away

Oh crumbs. And to think that only yesterday I said to Dave that I was a bit busy, so not building the wall next month would suit me rather well. This morning, just when we were very occupied examining china for the condition report, the phone rang. The Person at the other end was asking if the Sage could do a valuation of a very large and rather splendid collection of china (which we had been reminding the People Concerned needed doing for about three years). It needs to be done urgently and at as low a cost as possible. They aren't sure if there is still the inventory that we did nearly nine years ago.

Next week is out of the question, the Sage mentioned, but we could make a start the week after. He'd have to check a few things first though, and he'd phone back within half an hour. He rang M. M reckoned he had a copy of the inventory, if not the previous valuation, but he pointed out that the collection is open to the public every afternoon, including Sundays, for the next two months.

Nevertheless, the Sage rang back offering a very low fee and to do the job asap - but he wants a firm commitment that he will be paid (I'll not explain this, it's not a matter of lack of honour but lack of cash, and People Concerned are trying to sort things out) and it transpires that the chap holding the purse strings is on holiday until next week anyway.

They want photographs too *of course* which is fine, as we'd have to open the cabinets anyway; you don't value things without handling them as they tell you about themselves when you hold them. Sorry, I'm not being fanciful, truly. You might know what I mean and if not, er, stroke something you care about and see if that extra sense adds to the way you respond to it. It works on any level...Oh look, come back, I didn't mean it that way. Unless that's what works for you. Whatever, You see my point, which is an elevated and academic one with a sensuous (not a sensual) element.*

Anyway, when I said 'make as start' the week after next, I didn't mean my time is free. I don't have more than two free days any week, and that's without having made arrangements at the high school for music, but taking in the dumping of non-essential commitments. It has to be in daylight because of the photos. And there's always the matter of the members of the public potentially milling around. Screens?

I may not have mentioned that I'm taking over the shop next week as Al and co are on holiday. After that, I'm looking after the children a couple of days a week while Dilly is working,. Dilly wondered if they are asking too much, in view of this latest thing. I said that family things come first. And it'll be fine. As it will. I just won't be doing any housework from now on. That's fine, a month's dust takes no more time to remove than a week's.

I suppose that they may declare the Sage's ludicrously low fee is too high, but no one else will do it for that money because we care. No, really, we do.

I'm going to stop now, before I weep into my - oh gosh, it's empty, how did that happen? - wine glass.

Oh, I nearly forgot - by the time we had had two more phone calls and two visitors - one expected and more than welcome and one a delivery of flowers to the wrong address - boo - we put them right, - boo - we didn't complete the condition report either. The weekend is the deadline. That's okay.

*sorry, I'm drowning my anxieties

Z and the Bearded Gentlemen

I was surprised. I had expected a certain chaos, but was ushered into a pristine and elegant room. There were, indeed, piles of cardboard boxes in the rooms off, but they were neatly and purposefully stacked. It recalled to my mind our move to this house. I stayed in L'toft to supervise operations back there and then followed on. I found a virtually empty house. The Sage had had everything stacked in the garages so that he couldn't possibly have put anything in the wrong room. I did mention that some things, like saucepans and clothes - and, indeed wardrobes - are a bit obvious, but it was too late by then. Some things are still out there, 22 years later. Yes, I do miss them. No, I can't fetch them. There's stuff stacked in front of the doors.

Dave showed us round his house, which is remarkably well bathroomed and beautifully painted. The garden is splendid - well, it isn't, it is rather bare with a thoroughly plantained lawn, but it has potential to be lovely, with the advantage of little that *must* be kept, so Dave will be able to use his talents for garden design.

Drew was already there when I arrived, but Murph wasn't able to come, being in need of a rest after the excitement of travelling the M62. I used to travel along it too, when Ro was at university. It was usually foggy on the eastern side. Well, I suppose it's the east, it's the side on my right on my way north. I did, however, see the towel-lined plastic box in which Lily travels, sitting on Drew's knees.

After our tour of the house, and having inspected all those bathrooms, Dave's bedroom (also fully furnished and tidy) and the cupboard under the stairs (amazingly roomy), we sat down and took tea. It turns out that Drew, too, is interested in wall-building. I think it should be a bloggers' wall and everyone who has a part in its building can sign their name. However, both Dave and I agree that we're rather pushed for time this autumn. May is a good month for building a wall, don't you think?

Big Pinkie's progress

I'm a bit busy today but I thought you might like to know how Big Pinkie is getting on. She's been alone in the field for the last few days, to see how she copes with it, and it seems to be going all right. Cows are herd animals of course and she has lived her whole life with other cows. The farmer never leaves just one, in case she gets lonely and breaks out of the field in search of company. However, the field is left ungrazed during the winter, from November to the beginning of April and, since our donkey died some years ago, she will have to learn to live alone.

She comes to the gate regularly in the hope of a cuddle and some food; we save wilted carrots and cabbages and old apples and that sort of thing for her. She's quite calm and doesn't seem to miss the other girls, who have gone back to the farm to get ready for calving. We'll have to think about shelter for her for the winter - the donkey's stable is still there but it's hardly big enough for her. When I was a child, we made a small dutch barn for our pony (I didn't ride her, she was an elderly pet with a weak heart, given a home to save her from being put down) and lined it with a double thickness of straw bales all around the walls - this was a shelter for her for the winter days and the summer nights and the straw was gradually used up in her stable. Something like this might be a possibility. The Sage and I have talked about it, but we'll need to speak to Johnny and his dad too as they may have a better idea.

The other news of the day is that a blogmeet has been arranged - I'm calling on Dave in his new home this afternoon and Drew, who is owned by Murph, will be there too. Won't we have fun?

Going for rather more than a song

The catalogue for our next sale is up here. Some rare items, several of which the Sage had previously sold to the late owner. If you happen to be a member of the Ant1ques C0llect0rs Club, there is a half-page advertisement near the back of the September edition of the magazine and we'll have ads in the Ant1ques Trade Gazette and the EDP and EADT due course (if you are East Angularians you'll know what papers they are and if you're not you won't see them anyway). We don't usually advertise that much, as it's more effective to have a large mailing list and send out catalogues, but this is an exceptional sale.

Oh, and the other news is that it's Al and Dilly's fourth wedding anniversary today.

Happy day, darlings!

Z Pigs Out

I could give you a rant but I've decided against it; at least for tonight. Because I is cheery again and not in that sort of mood.

Tonight's party (I'll soon have to stop saying I don't have a social life at this rate) was the annual Cider Club doo. Most jolly as always and a good meeting-place for friends I used to see regularly, in the days when we really did get out more. There is lots of cider, much of it slightly dodgy and I confess I quietly added a little lemonade to take away the acidity, in the hope of not having a sore head in the morning. A whole pig is roasted, which takes all day, loads of salads and a vegetable and rice concoction is cooked in a massive pan over an open fire. Dilly wants a pan just like it. I don't know why, but nevertheless I think it's a splendid idea. Enough rice was cooked in it for at least 150 people. Adèle says that you can buy them pretty cheaply in hardware shops in France.

We all went and the children lasted, sleepily by the end, until 10 o'clock when their parents took them home. I saw Ro deep in conversation with a bloke and later asked him about his friend - turned out he works for a large Norwich company and they might be able to direct some work in the direction of Ro's firm. Useful, if not strictly social...

Alice had cycled up from Peckham for the weekend. Lovely girl, but evidently barking. Mind you, her brother is the chap who does triathlons (can't remember if I wrote about that here or in the Other Place) and has ambitions to work up to an Ironman. Apparently, that involves a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike ride and a marathon run. Alice's mother asked if I enjoy my cycling. I said truthfully that I don't. It's a way of getting about and it's good for me, what's to like? It's not that I hate it, or not very often, but it's not exactly tennis or something amusing like that, is it? Indeed, I added, if I really want to have a good time outdoors I'll put my feet up in a sun lounger and read. She was quite shocked, for she loves things energetic, and suggested that there was surely something energetic I actually enjoyed. I agreed. There is. I'm sure you can guess what it is. But at my advanced age, it normally happens indoors and certainly between two consenting adults.

Arthropod, Bottom, Cheeks (for instance)

I was pondering, this evening. What made me ponder was the phonetic alphabet thingy, you know, Foxtrot Romeo Zulu and all that malarkey. And the reason that made me ponder was hearing a woman say that their seats were in row N and the chap with her said "N? N for Naughty?" Which reminded me that our postcode ends in F and whenever you give it over the phone the person at the other end says "F? F for Freddie?" Almost always. Rarely Foxtrot and never a third option.

And that made me think that one could have more memorable words. More interesting, maybe slightly startling. First, I thought of an alphabet of more-or-less rude words, but then I thought that this would be a bit dodgy to give over the phone, so maybe slightly odd would be better. So, if (living in Norfolk as I do) I started my postcode with Naughty Rascal, you wouldn't forget it, would you?

I didn't get all through the alphabet, well I did, but I've forgotten them now. I'd be charmed for some suggestions though. I know no one reads blogs at the weekend, least of all during a Bank Holiday weekend, but if you have a minute to spare to call in, would you like to come up with a couple of ideas? I'd be quite happy with, say, a noun and an adjective for each letter, so I don't care if everyone suggests words for the same few letters, I mean, do I look a woman who gives a tuppeny damn about Rules? I think that B should be Bottom though, don't you?

If you don't leave anything in the comments, I'll pretend you have all emailed me and make them up myself.

A - Arsey
B - Bottom
C - Czar
D - Djinn
E - Effing
F - Floccinaucinihilipilification
G - Gnome
H - Honour
I - Imbibe
J - Jerk
K - Kiss Knight
L - Lurch
M - Mnemonic (actually, that could be just too confusing)
N - Nuts
O - Organ
P - Pneumatic Pants
Q - Quiescent
R - Rumble
S - Snot
T - Tzatziki
U - Uppity
V - Verisimilitude
W - Wriggling
X - Xylem
Y - Ypres (pronounced correctly or as 'Wipers', each works)
Z - Bed

I give you carte blanche but reserve the right to refuse any suggestion that I deem just Too Rude.

Friends, family and neighbours

All very enjoyable. I woke up and decided not to get up, but to read yesterday's papers first. At half past eight, the Sage came upstairs, saw me reading, went down again and came up with today's papers as well to keep me going. I didn't get up until nine o'clock. Ho.

I spent the afternoon with El, Phil and Zerlina. I made them lunch and cuddled the baby so that Phil could eat. Then I ate mine. I am adept at eating with a baby in one arm. I've been doing it for over 34 years. She slept mostly, but she did wake before I left so I saw her eyes open for the first time.

Kavitha phoned to say she could come over and visit before leaving for Deepa's second wedding tomorrow. Weeza just rang to say that she had turned up with her husband and they could see there were other people in the car. It turned out that there were two carfuls of people on their way to Norwich, so they were all invited for an impromptu street party. It included family (from yesterday's wedding) from Chennai, Sydney and Washington (DC) so Weeza isn't likely to see them all together for some time, and there was a happy reunion. Then neighbours started to come out, including one who is expecting a baby herself in October and another who sent a card on the birth of Zerlina, so it was all very sociable and happy.

Tomorrow, the new family of three are coming over to visit as Squiffany and Pugsley haven't met their new cousin yet. I printed out a photo and took it through. Squiffany stroked it lovingly, said that they would be very careful and gentle with her and took the picture to put it on her bedroom mantlepiece. I will go into the shop so that Al can come and join in the family party - having cuddled my granddaughter for several hours today, a shorter time will suffice tomorrow.

Z lets her hair down

Today, I went to a wedding. I had a fabulous time. It was the sister of El's best friend, whose wedding we went to in Madras four and a half years ago. This time, it's in England at the home of their aunt in Lowestoft. D was marrying an English man and had the Hindu ceremony and reception today and will have a church wedding on Friday.

We were all invited, but Al and Ro were at work, so the Sage and Dilly and I all went to the ceremony this morning. I'll have a look tomorrow and see if there are any suitable pictures to put up. Tonight, just Dilly and I went to the party as everyone else ducked out on the pretext of not knowing anyone. I knew most of D and K's family, but no one else - actually, we'd known several people this morning, though having lived in Lowestoft for many years, this wasn't surprising.

I found that not many people knew me tonight. I'd cheerfully address them by name (this was quite a feat of memory, considering it was the foreign names of people I'd met for a week several years ago) and then have to reintroduce myself. Nirmala explained "I didn't recognise you because you look younger than you did when I saw you before, and haven't you lost weight?" I was completely mollified. I admitted that I had been very tired at that time.

Anyway, what with one thing and another, I was completely in the mood for a party. An Indian wedding is something else in any case, I adore the food and, though I had bought a dress for the morning, I was rather sorry that I hadn't put on a sari, so I hauled a rather lovely royal blue and gold one in georgette silk out of the drawer and set about putting it on for last night. I hadn't practised that for a few years either. I know the technique and it only took two goes...

As I say, completely in the mood and I felt the usual polite behaviour for which I am almost totally unknown drain away. I danced, darlings, like a meerkat*. For more than two hours, I danced my shoes off. Literally, as my feet were threatening to give out after a while, so I carried on barefoot.

I also ate my dinner properly, with my right hand. Indian food tastes best eaten with the fingers.

*With appreciative acknowledgement to Mike (Troubled Diva). I should add that I am not using his phrase in its correct sense - that is, dancing in a manner that brought meerkats to mind, but an extended meaning of dancing in an uninhibited fashion, regardless of what anyone might think. In short, it's too good an expression not to use. Indeed, he has been known to verb 'meerkat' itself and that works too.

A slight degree of over explanation here?

Once, twice, three times a Granny

and how I love them all.

Her name is Zerlina, for she is a small version of her mother - Weezalina, she should be called but she will not be wee for very long so it has been neatened.

And here she is.

I took her from her mother and found it hard to put her down again. I passed her to Dilly and she was cuddled by the rest of the family and then I took her back and held her while I ate my dinner. I haven't seen her eyes yet, she slept throughout. Her face screwed up a few times and she started to cry, but I have a soporific effect on many people and I was able to soothe her.

She has long fingers and hands. Her skin, soft last night, is now quite dry and wrinkled, but that won't last long. She is tiny, smaller than any of the other babies in the family were, but quite strong and healthy.

Oh, and one more thing...

HAPPY THIRD WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, WEEZA AND PHIL!!(!)




I made them a croquembouche as a wedding cake. It was the first time I had ever spun sugar. I meant to practise but hey - it's always all right on the night, isn't it?

BABY

Phil just rang. His and Weeza's baby girl was born earlier this evening - a couple of hours ago, he's a bit hazy as to the time. All's well, although it was a bit tricky as she was facing the wrong way and so in the end Weeza needed an epidural and a forceps delivery. She weighed 6 lbs 3 oz so it was just as well that she wasn't induced any earlier.

They expect to come home tomorrow.

Update Baby was born at 10 pm. So to phone not much more than an hour later is devotion to soninlawly duty indeed.

17, 18,, Granny in waiting

I can't settle to anything today. I don't want to use the phone in case we get a call and I can't focus on work. My cold is clearing up, but I have a hacking cough and not much breath, so I don't want to go out on my bike. Besides, I want to be here.

I had a text from Phil at 8.45 this morning which has left me hopeful of news today. I was waiting to pay the hairdresser at the time I read it -which was half an hour after it was sent, in fact. I hadn't heard the phone beep, it was probably when my hair was being washed. It's hard not to ring them, but of course that's not on. Indeed, odds are that the phone isn't either.

Another job was completed, in that our catalogue has gone off to the printers. It was a joint effort; I did the photos and the typing, Weeza did the layout, Ro then did the alterations and we all proofread and did final tweaks. I emailed it off as a PDF and had an acknowledgment that it was received. Our little business has never had a 40 page catalogue with most lots illustrated before, we usually run it all on a shoestring. I'll let you know when it's all up on the website. I haven't taken the photos yet of the first 15 lots, which aren't illustrated in the catalogue but will be online, but I've got all week for that.

I went to bed early last night as I really felt quite rough. If I mention that I didn't want to finish my wine but left half a glass, you will appreciate the jaggedness of Z. I kept waking all night, I don't think I ever slept longer for half an hour at a stretch and my mind was very full. And this was before Phil's text.

It rained

But El has still not had her baby. She has been to the hospital for a check-up and it got her quite gingered up. "I'll see if we'll let you go home" was said to her. No, you don't say that to a grown woman (who has done her research, knows her facts and in real life has a job with a high level of responsibility and who - shall we go there? Fuckit, why not? - is paid more, when working,* than the midwife who is trying to patronise her - who simply happens to be pregnant. With a commendable tolerance, she didn't rise, but did say that she would prefer not to have daily monitoring. She's having another check-up on Tuesday. I haven't spoken to her today, but we've exchanged emails and she has thanked me for not fussing over her.

I do this complicated rota, you know? Three months at a time. Columns for two readers, sidesman, musician and coffee-maker, and a further column for additional notes, such as the rare weekends when I'm away (so someone else needs to bring keys). Some people only come to one service a month, some to any but one (not necessarily the same one) and some not in the school holidays. I ask for notice of inconvenient Sundays, so that I don't make other people look for swaps, though people will always fill in. It's all very good-natured. But it's not effortless. So it was slightly disappointing when the second reader and the coffee maker forgot. The former didn't arrive, the latter didn't bring milk. There was an emergency packet of biscuits, I am not a careless sort of Z.

It was pouring with rain so, since I'd walked (cycling with an umbrella is a non-starter, really), someone gave me a lift home for the milk and the same kind someone read the lesson. It's mildly frustrating that the one who forgot to come is a helpful chap who always offers but often doesn't turn up. When I asked for extra sidesmen, my heart sank when he offered and, indeed, he doesn't arrive early, so all the work is already done, half of it by me, and chats cheerily after the service so doesn't help clear away. There are reasons why it's impossible to say anything, but he'll protest if I don't put him on the list. I have to put it together in the next few days. I sigh.

But first, I'll have dinner. It is entirely veggie. Blue Witch would approve.

*She was the highest earner in the family, before she went on maternity leave.

It hasn't rained yet.

Nor has the baby been born, but thank you for asking.

I am quite tired and I have a cold, and I have been working very hard all day. So please excuse me if I do not scintillate like a twinkly little star tonight. I will later of course, when flirting with my husband, because that gives meaning to my day.

I cycled in to town and down to the Co-op, where I haven't shopped for weeks and I had, as a result, run out of a lot of things. I shop most days, but once in a while it's necessary to stock up. Furthermore, we were out of beer. There is a limit to how much beer can be fitted into a pair of panniers. So I agreed with the Sage that, at a given time, he would meet me at the shop and load the car up with shopping. I'm sure this is not the point of cycling to the shops, but there we go. He had to go out anyway.

It had been a tiring day and I bought apple strudel. We don't usually have puddings and if we do, I make them. But tonight we had bought apple strudel. It was symbolic of a need, somehow, even if now my mouth has a coating of fat. It tasted good at the time. We also had fish. And baked potatoes and french beans.

I might write tomorrow, but if I don't it will be because the baby has not been born and I am losing interest in writing about anything else. Don't tell me you've noticed? I am completely distracted.

I'm going to read the papers. They will not cheer me, not one bit. I will probably spend some time staring at the crossword and filling in seven clues, then doing all the sudoku very quickly because it's not that interesting, then staring at the crossword again. Saturday nights, aren't they perfectly lovely?

I have the Sage. The answer is yes. Potentially.

Update --- the evening has improved. The Sage just found a nest of chicks, whose mother had naughtily laid away. I knelt on a bed of holly leaves and reached under a prickly horizontally-growing dwarf conifer and brought out ten blonde chicks and their complacent mummy. They are tucked away safely in a coop.

It didn't rain. Apparently, it will tomorrow

We ventured out into the garden to eat dinner, it being the first fine day and evening this month (I think, please don’t take me to task on this). Pugsley hadn’t been well all day and hadn’t eaten much. They had been out for the day with friends and been to a park in Norwich and had a picnic, and he had needed a lot of jollying to remain reasonably happy, but he didn’t want lunch, even though it contained rare treats, crisps and suchlike. He skipped his afternoon nap, didn’t fall asleep on the way home and finally crashed out sometime around 5.30, as did his sister. So perhaps it wasn’t surprising that he was a bit fractious when they came through to eat.

When finally he was persuaded to have something, he started to cheer up, tentatively. He had sat on his mother’s lap as he wailed horribly every time she put him on his chair, so when I finished eating I took him to give her a break. He was fine by then and even giggled. Squiffany was being charming, though a bit gloomy about her prospects of sleep tonight. “He’ll probably cry and keep me awake.” We debated the options and came down to a choice between putting him in the kitchen “in the bin?” interjected Dilly or shutting him out in the garden.

Later, we went to the copse (too small really for such a name, it’s a little triangular shady spot at the end of the lawn where sapling elms grow) for an imaginary train ride. You pull aside an unprickly holly branch and the train is immediately beyond. When it stops at its destination, you have reached the wood. Just at the entrance to the copse, I found a pigeon's egg, empty, dropped by the parent away from the nest. Pugsley cheered up at once and, when we went back to the table (where Dilly was sitting on Al's knee) he told them about it.

Weeza is coming over tomorrow with the finished catalogue. It will suit us nicely if she has the baby at any time after that, she's finished the work we wanted her to do.

Z works for her living and Ro is helpful

No news, darlings, nothing to report from Weeza.

We've spent the whole day working on the catalogue for the next sale. It's a rather good one, with some rare shapes and inscribed pieces - the whole collection of someone who has died is being sold and the family has decided to have a special sale with a fully illustrated catalogue. The Sage, helped by a couple of friends who know even more than he does, has been researching it all, finding out the provenance of as much of the china as possible. Several pieces were bought in our saleroom over the years. Weeza is putting the catalogue together and I sent her all the descriptions this afternoon, and I've taken all the photographs and will go through them, cropping and labelling them tomorrow morning, ready for her to finish it off. It will go to the printers on Monday. We won't have finished; I still have the few other pieces to photograph that aren't illustrated (some of the entries from other vendors), the description of some books and other publications to write and every piece has to be examined carefully for a condition report. Ro will update the website, then we'll have to post all the catalogues. This will be done by early September.

So that's all I've done today from the list and I'll have to buck my ideas up on Friday afternoon to get everything else done.

Oh, one useful thing happened the other day. The phone we use with our BT internet connection stopped working and Ro spent a long time (on a freephone number) trying to get help with it. Everyone he was passed on to was very helpful, but working from the same checklist and they made him go through all the checks time after time. He was inordinately patient and polite. Finally, he got on to someone who wasn't on a helpline in India, who agreed that the Home Hub was at fault. But it had had a 12 month guarantee and the deal we got it free with had an 18 month contract which didn't end until the start of December. A new one would be £70. You can quite imagine my reaction to this news. Ro, still patient, agreed to be rung back (this was, by now, the third day of effort). The next night, he got a salesman who was able to negotiate. We now have a new 12 month contract, starting now, at £2 less per month than we had been paying and a new free home hub which arrived today. I'll be quite sorry when the lad leaves home. He is useful to have around.

He's useful to his brother too. Al and Dilly were going out to a concert at Snape and I was out for dinner and the Sage for his wood club. This is not a club made of wood, it is a society of people who make things from it. So Ro was the only person left to babysit.

Do you know, I feel quite inclined to have an early night. I'm quite tired. I wonder if I will or if, when I start reading, a couple of hours will go by without being noticed.

Z gets out, much

Well, didn't get much ticked off the list, but I was out most of the afternoon and all of the evening. The organ playing went fine, thank you. At the end of the service I looked round just in time to see the newly widowed husband in tears, wiping his eyes. I turned away to concentrate on not having to wipe mine. As it wasn't in our village, I hadn't known the name of the lady who had died; it turned out that the couple had been a member of the same classic car club as the Sage and he knew them. She had been ill for some years and in the local wonderful cottage hospital for several months; her husband had sat with her for several hours every single day, even though by then she hardly remembered him. The Sage had visited several times too, as much for his sake as hers.

Anyway, the Rector and her husband had given me a lift and on the way home took me out for a cream tea. Scones, darlings, of course. I manfully, and with enjoyment, ate mine and by way of compensation did not have an ice cream during the interval tonight, drinking black coffee instead. I'd been obliged to park in a very awkward spot and moved during the interval, my half-drunk cup of coffee in the car's cupholder, to a better place.

The concert tonight was a gypsy orchestra from Budapest. It was arranged in the traditional style, with first and second violins (the second violin also and it seems simultaneously plays a third violin part) a viola, called a bratch, a double bass, cello, clarinet and cimbalon. To start with, it seemed to me that the backing had nothing to do with the melody played by the violin - I couldn't discern a pattern in it. I started to listen more carefully to each instrument and I could hear that each was indeed accompanying the violin but when I switched my hearing back to the ensemble, I couldn't get it any more. I was starting to, by the interval and felt that my brain might have made sense of it all by the time I returned.

The second violinist had had a friendly arm round the shoulder of the band leader as they came on in the first place, and it seemed a little odd that he did again in the second half. They all had Hungarian names (well, the little that I know about such things) but he told us that he was, in fact, from Belgium and had travelled to learn the music of his gypsy ancestors, as he loved it and wanted to help keep the tradition alive. His English was perfect and unaccented, although slightly stilted and so were his movements. He had a few mannerisms, including frequently touching the microphone, but it wasn't until several minutes into the second half that it occurred to me that he might be blind and as I observed, I became sure of it. I can see why this is irrelevant to his music and that he might choose not to refer to it; acknowledging it might make it a bigger deal than he would think it worth and detract from his musicality and that of the band but, nevertheless, it does make it a bigger deal that he is the front man and does all the speaking and that the others are quite matter-of-factly protective of him. As the concert went on, the applause became louder and longer; I wasn't the only one to open my ears to its style.

They haven't got a CD out yet as the group is quite newly formed, but he invited us to put down our emails at the music stall if we wanted to be kept informed; there was a steady line of people by the time I'd written mine. Like much music that is not easy at first listen, the more you listen the more you hear, appreciate and enjoy it. It's not really a genre I'd take as my favourite but I'd like to listen to it more as I think it's worth the learning. And yes, I admire them and yes, he would not like (a reasonably small) part of the reason to be his attitude to his blindness, which is the reason I'm not putting up their name.

Z is making a list instead of just getting on with it. This is Not Good

Work is piling up horribly. This is not good. I should move the computer back into the room it's supposed to be in where I can put myself in work mode and just get on with it. I can't be bothered to move it. It was a real downward step when I brought in the printer.

Oh dear. Make a list of things to be done this week.

Take photographs for the catalogue Yay, done it!
Write catalogue Yay, done it!
Write minutes of churchwardens' meeting
Write four letters to people who want to join the lunch club (I know, I am a Lady Who Lunches, bet you didn't see that coming)Yay, done it!
Write two letters to people regarding points they made on the Nadfas questionnaire
Consider the agenda for the next Nadfas committee meeting - I've found that a fully annotated agenda saves a lot of discussion at the meeting.
A letter to Islington council to say the flat is empty and claim a period without council tax Yay, done it!
Find someone to fix an aerial at the flat and tell the downstairs tenant so that they can agree a time to meet
Phone the church architect and set up a meeting
Do the rest of the stuff on the list from the meeting the other night Yay, done it!
Write to my accountant
Email all the people who have been asking when our next sale is.
Phone the piano tuner about my pianola Yay, done it! - well, left an answerphone message
Do the rota for the next three months for sidesmen, coffee making, lesson reading etc for the church
Other stuff. It'll come to me.

I'll tick things off as I do them. Ho hum.

Mellow fruitfulness

I wrote full and helpful notes for last night's meeting and sent them out, with a column to say who's going to do what and had an email back from someone who hadn't been there to say couldn't we get on a bit faster and why weren't we planning to have another meeting next month? Oh I say. I thought we were doing quite well, or at least if we do what we say we're going to we will. I haven't started on my bit yet, but then I have done the write-up and that took me a good two hours.

Anyway, last night Tilly didn't want to get off the sofa to go out so the Sage left me to persuade her before I went to bed an hour or two later. I made her, cruelly (I clapped my hands briskly and stood up), because I didn't want her to have the embarrassment of having to ask me to come and open the door in the middle of the night. Poor old darling was stiff and limping. She was fine this morning, I think she'd simply been lying still for too long. Tonight, when the Sage called her she got up straight away. She's just come back, looking hopeful. I didn't have any of her biscuits here so I've given her half a ricecake and a strawberry. She was pleased. She was just in time, because Ro has also come in, looking for his share of the strawberries. He looked mildly disappointed when he found there were only six left, and has gone for the melon I offered him earlier on to have with them.

There has been a lot of rain. And wind. Floods, in some places. You wouldn't think it was the middle of summer. Hot, in between the storms, but nothing like summer as we used to know it. You know, like last century, when I was young.

A funeral to play for tomorrow. Not at our village church and it's an organ I haven't played before. It could be a bit tricky. There will be a CD played at the start which will let me off the hook somewhat (I won't have to work so hard for my money) but I won't have time to get used to the instrument. If I say nothing about it tomorrow, it'll be because it's been an experience I'd rather forget.

Ridiculus Mus

Yes, I'm sorry you're getting so many posts. I can quite see that those of you with time on your hands will consider it a bonus, but anyone who dips into blogs once in a while will probably never catch up. You won't miss anything, just mark them all read and relax.

I've been thinking, as I waited for the kettle to boil - oh,hang on, Tilly is asking me to finish my breakfast.

Right, she's eaten the last of my yoghurt so I'm back. Where was I? Okay...

I was thinking, while waiting for the kettle to boil, about punctuality. I referred in a comment to first babies generally being late, while subsequent ones often (this is the only reference to childbirth in this post, this has not become a parturition blog - ooh, actually, I've just thought of a name for a new blog if I ever abandon this one) arrive when they are expected, if rarely on the precise due day.

You might not think it to look at me, but I am generally punctual. I am always on time for appointments and lunch and give a polite ten to twenty-five minutes leeway for dinner. If I'm going to be half an hour or more late home, I phone; if I've said what time to expect me, that is. In other respects I'm pretty casual (I add hastily, in case you're thinking 'but this doesn't sound like the Z we have come to know') and have little awareness of my own time once I start reading, which is the reason I go to bed so late.

Among friends and acquaintances, one gets to know who will be early, punctual and late and expects them accordingly, which is fine. I found it very disconcerting, when first married, that my mother-in-law was always early when I asked her and Pa round for a meal, when I was never ready, having expected a more sophisticated later arrival. Now, more relaxed, when someone turns up before I'm ready I get them to lay the table or open the booze, as one does. If you offer, I'll say 'yes'. Watch out, or you'll find yourself digging potatoes.

No, what always catches me out is when I get a phone call. "Would it be convenient for me to pop round Right Now?" I say it would. I expect that person in the time it takes to put on a coat, get in the car, on the bike or Shanks' Pony and get here. But it never happens. I may cool my heels, unable to get on with anything as I'm expecting a visitor any minute, for up to an hour.

The postman brought me a Present this morning. Thank you, darling Badgerdaddy xxx. I shall write as soon as I've listened.

Z isn't as bemused as she was this morning

I stood in at the shop for a couple of hours this afternoon as Al had an appointment - it was fun. I was pretty busy - no time to sit down at all, no more than a minute without a customer and several people I knew, which is always a pleasure.

Nada (a prize for the first to work out why she was given that name, which is her real one) came in. "I saw you at Snape on Saturday didn't I?" I said. She had been sitting with friends having dinner when I spotted her. We chatted about the concerts. Then she asked me if I'd watch University Challenge this evening. I said I probably would and told her that it was one of my favourite programmes when I was a child (yes really, Huckleberry Hound and University Challenge pretty well sum up my childhood viewing) and that Bamber Gascoigne was my earliest heartthrob (I was about 8 probably) and she confided happily that her grandson is the captain of one of the teams. "You must know who won! - I won't ask" "I wouldn't tell you" she returned happily. After she left, I remembered that I was going out to a meeting at 7 o'clock so I've recorded it, so that I can say I thought he was marvellous when I next see her.

I made a quick detour to the wine merchant's on the way home. I'd drunk all but the good white. I bumped into a friend walking her dog. We exchanged brief notes on the families. I asked how she is - "oh, fine, but isn't getting old a bugger? I'm not old enough to have all these aches and pains." She said she has a bad back - indeed, she was walking stiffly. And her hands are getting arthritic. I could see when she held them out, they're starting to become crooked. She can't open jars and hasn't much strength in them. She's a bit older than me, but not that much. It's true, it's all a bugger. We feel the same as we used to and she still is absolutely beautiful, but age is hitting her early.

I got a spam email this morning in the name of a friend. I didn't open the attachments of course, and emailed sympathetically to tell her about it. I had a reply saying 'grrr', basically - it's beastly when your email and mailing list is hijacked, isn't it? She was wondering why I haven't written for ages. I've no excuse. If I don't reply to a letter at once, it hangs over me like an impenetrable pall. I'm wondering whether to point her in this direction, so at least she knows what's going on in the life of Z, but I'm a bit shy of it. Ro's friend Zain found me, and when Ro saw him at the weekend, he knew more about my doings than Ro did...if you're reading this, Zain, have a great holiday.

I came down in price as far as I could, but the nice young couple couldn't afford the flat. Oh bother. I'll have to pay a fortune to a letting agent instead. I'd rather have knocked it off their rent - we weren't far apart in the end, but top and bottom lines didn't equate, unfortunately.

Anyway, I'm sorry I came over all peculiar this morning. It was one of those posts that shouldn't have seen the light of day.